


i do not deserve to find what i've lost

by acidspittle



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kid!Scout, Kidfic, M/M, brief mentions of heavymedic and past spymom, dad!spy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:34:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28524033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acidspittle/pseuds/acidspittle
Summary: Another pained heave forced its way into existence as Spy's shoulders jerked, followed by a pathetic sniffle. Belatedly, Sniper realized that the ever-composed rogue was crying, his words interrupted by the occasional sob.“I- I had convinced myself that I could not have been in this part of his life. I was too busy, it was too dangerous. I didn’t need him, or her, and they were better off without me. I didn't need this, couldn’t have it, and didn’t want it, besides. God, I-“ A hiccup, and Sniper brought his other arm up to cradle Spy’s head, offering silent comfort as his collar grew damp with tears.“I was such a fool, and now fate taunts me with what I’d squandered in my stupidity.”------------Scout meddles with magic, Spy has a bad time, and Sniper is just trying to keep everyone sane.
Relationships: Scout & Spy (Team Fortress 2), Sniper/Spy (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Partially inspired by this lovely art by @psd.mafia on Instagram: https://tinyurl.com/y7yp8twu

_“Jesus Christ on a cracker, what in the name of God’s green earth did you do!?!”_ Engineer’s furious bellow shook throughout the kitchen, startling the Sniper, who’d been on his way in to make a pot of coffee. Cautiously, the Aussie peeked around the corner, preparing to duck if any wrenches or other poorly-aimed projectiles came his way.

“Oi! I didnae do anything, I just found ‘em ‘ere!” Demoman was furiously waving his bottle of scrumpy at something behind the kitchen island, of which he, Engineer, and Pyro were crowded around. The marksman groaned and seriously debated turning around and ignoring whatever mess they’d made this time, coffee be damned. Pyro had probably set on fire again something (or someone) that definitely shouldn’t have been on fire, or maybe Soldier had dug another ‘escape route’ through the kitchen tile. The last one had led to Engie ranting for hours about the structural integrity of the sandstone Soldier had somehow blasted through to, and all mercs besides the builder being banned from entering the kitchen as he conducted repairs. Either way, Sniper decided, caffeination could wait in favor of avoiding the shitshow of the week.

Resolutely, he turned around to march his way back to his camper van, making it a whole six feet down the hallway before he was knocked to the ground by Heavy bowling through.

“Oi! Watch it!” Sniper yelled after the large figure turning into the kitchen. Fuck, he’d jammed his shoulder in the fall. Recoil was gonna be a bitch today. Annoyed, he wondered why the usually polite Russian was in such a rush, it was unlike him to be so careless with his large frame off the battlefield, much less not apologize for it. He spared a moment to contemplate what in the kitchen had Heavy, who was surprisingly one of the saner, more collected individuals on base, involved.

Just as the Australian had regained his footing, he was nearly knocked over once again by a panting Medic lugging a medkit, who at least had the courtesy to toss a breathless “Entschuldigung!” over his shoulder. 

“Uh. Gesundheit.” Sniper mumbled after him, befuddled. Ah, bugger. He’d already been seen by two of his teammates, so pleading ignorance was out the window. And, he crossly surmised, if whatever was going on was enough to worry Engineer, Heavy, and Medic, he himself probably ought to be a little concerned. Grumbling at how somehow being employed with eight other so-called professional mercenaries had turned out to be the most unprofessional, chaotic experience of his life so far, Sniper trudged his way back towards the kitchen, where the sounds of commotion had increased dramatically.

“Grab me ze ammonia capsule, bitte!” Medic could barely be heard above the rest.

“Wait- doc, can we even use those on him now?”

“Mrhrr thrss rr sffhr frr hrmm?”

“...How can leetle man be… leetle-er?”

“Administration is gonnae kill us…”

Sniper entered the room just in time to see Medic whirl around, snapping, “Everybody QUIET! And move back, I cannot work with you all crowding around like carrion!”, the doctor glaring daggers at the mercenaries who, familiar with that glower, wisely shut up and backed up. 

Sniper peered over Demo’s shoulder at the kitchen floor, where Soldier’s prone, naked, figure was lying next to a pile of clothes. Ah. Sniper mused on how, sadly, this wasn’t even surprising anymore. Though, besides that, there seemed to be little out of the ordinary. Not nearly enough to warrant the hustle and bustle he’d nearly been trampled for. Soldier still had all his limbs attached (and in their correct configurations, at that!) and the kitchen was seemingly intact, besides the foul green miasma that oozed over the tile, and a dusting of the same putrid chartreuse on the floor. 

Wait. 

Bollocks. 

Sniper cursed vehemently under his breath. An unconscious Soldier naked on the kitchen floor was no cause for alarm in and of itself, but anything involving Merasmus was assured trouble. And, worryingly, Medic hadn’t even touched Soldier yet, instead fussing over the pile of clothes at his side. A pile that Sniper noted with rising dread, also contained a tell-tale baseball cap and dog tags. And a foot. Oh. Yeah, that was definitely a foot, though it was thankfully still attached to it's owner, if unusually small...

...Much too small to belong to a grown man. 

He tracked the half-covered form up until Medic blocked his view, and mentally confirmed that, yep, that was definitely not the body of a 27-year-old.

 _Bugger_ , Sniper thought viciously. This was definitely a cause for concern. Nudging Demo, he dreaded the answer to his question: “Mate, that’s not Scout under there, is it?”. The Scotsman shot him a confirming grimace, and Sniper internally groaned. Nevermind Administration killing them, Spy would probably get ‘em all first. 

Speaking of. He should probably go do something about that. That would be the socially-morally-correct thing to do, right? Breaking the news to your fellow mercenary of which you were of ambiguous romantic involvement with that his estranged adult son, whom he abandoned as a child- a situation that has caused him much grief and guilt- had by means of sketchy wizard magic regressed into said child? 

Sniper could physically feel his headache descending upon him.

“He seems to be physically fine, besides the obvious”, Medic stated. Standing up, he motioned Heavy forward. “Bärchen, help me move Soldier to the infirmary so I can restrain him. I would rather he not destroy the kitchen when I use the smelling salts,” he remarked disapprovingly. Heavy nodded and moved forward to sling the naked man over his shoulder. “In the meantime, the rest of you, please inform Administration and have them call a ceasefire.” The German’s blue eyes flashed with a furious passion. “I refuse to fight another war where there is a child at risk.” Handing the medkit to Heavy, Medic carefully gathered up most of the pile, and with it, a small child Sniper wretchedly observed was, undeniably, Scout. Even unconscious and at least a good two decades or so younger, the mousy brown hair and petulant expression were unmistakable. With a pang in his chest, Sniper noted that the familial resemblance was stronger when he was a wee tyke.

As if on cue, Medic called, “Also, someone inform Spy”. Sniper tried not to growl at how half the heads remaining swiveled his way.

“Yeah, yeah, oi've got it.” He muttered, turning heel. Damn, he wished he had ended up making coffee. This was not a situation he wanted to broach to Spy at all, much less while uncaffeinated.


	2. Chapter 2

Waffling outside Spy’s door, Sniper fretted nervously. How in the world was he supposed to do this? The last and only time they had discussed 'the Scout situation' was after having imbibed copious amounts of alcohol, which had been immediately followed with the threat never mention it again (at least while sober) if he liked his balls where they were.

And now he was not only going to mention it, but also going to inform Spy that this very, very personal matter that few even knew existed, was now going to be a whole-team issue.

Bugger all of this.

The task of getting Spy’s attention was taken out of his hands, though, when the door abruptly opened and the man in question made to walk out, braking just in time to avoid the gangly, startled Australian who’d tripped over his own feet in his surprise.

“...Sniper?” Sniper looked up, internally bemoaning that this was the second time he’d made acquaintances with the wall this morning.

“...uh, yeah.” He muttered eloquently, faltering under the arch eyebrow and unimpressed look Spy was giving him.

“Do you have a reason to be dawdling outside my quarters,” he checked his watch, “twelve minutes before we are due to start battle?”

Sniper gulped, then took a shaky breath. Well, Spy was gonna find out somehow. “Look, spook. Something happened to Scout. Jeremy.” At the panicked, fear-stricken look that crashed onto Spy’s face, he cursed himself and backtracked. “Nonono, not like that. Well, um. I don’t know yet but I think he’s fine right now, Medic’s got ‘im. And. Uh. He didn’t seem too scared?” He finished lamely.

Spy growled, and grabbed Sniper’s collar, bodily tugging him through the doorway and eliciting a startled yelp from the gunman. “Inside!”, he barked. Slamming the door shut behind them, Spy shoved Sniper away before negating it by stalking forward, bringing them chest-to-chest. His expression was both terrified and furious under the balaclava. “What. Happened.”

Sniper met his eyes and tried his best to wrangle his words into sense, “I’m not entirely sure. Demo said he found Scout and Soldier on the kitchen floor, both unconscious. Solly is normal, well naked, but mostly normal! But Scout, uh, he was- I’m not entirely sure, but I think he was a kid.” Spy shot him a bewildered look. Sniper tried to clarify, “Like, a _kid_ kid. Not just like younger than us. I mean, yes, but- ah nevermind. He looked like he was six or seven. Years old, that is. I think Merasmus was involved? There was some, uh, green stuff.” 

Spy closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath. Sniper waited patiently as the frenchman gathered his thoughts and worked through what was undoubtedly a flood of emotions and confusion, awkwardly hovering in front of him. Finally, Spy let out a breath and slumped forward, his head bumping against Sniper’s collarbone. Sniper cautiously rested a hand on the man’s back, in what he hoped was more a reassuring gesture than awkward. He could feel the other’s heartbeat racing.

“Is he awake?” Came the muffled question, a few moments later. 

“Nah. Medic didn’t use the smelling salts on him ‘cause he’s just a tyke right now. Not sure if he’s awake yet, Oi came here as soon as they brought them to the infirmary. The others are asking Administration for a ceasefire so we can sort this out.”

Spy nodded. Sniper felt the other man’s breath ghosting over his neck as he remained silent. 

When he finally spoke, his voice was soft and Sniper had to strain to hear him even in their closeness. It was frighteningly unlike the commanding, debonair character he usually presented. “Do you… do you think his mind is that of a child?” Do you think he remembers me, Sniper understood. From what he’d gathered during Spy’s more surly, drunken moods, he had left when Jeremy was little more than a toddler, and what little memories Scout had of him were eventually erased by time and growth. But if he was currently only five or six. It was a possibility that in this state, Spy might register some familiarity.

Sniper truthfully simply said, “I dunno mate.” Spy let out a shuddering breath. Taking initiative, Sniper carefully pulled him into a firm embrace, rubbing a comforting thumb over the other man’s shoulder- something he likely would have been sneered at for in normal circumstances. Instead, Spy ever so slightly leaned into it, tucking his face into the crook of Sniper’s neck. They stood together for a moment, Spy quietly accepting the little comfort Sniper gave. Finally, the frenchman sighed and Sniper took that for the sign it was that the moment was over.

Straightening up and fully stepping out of Sniper’s space, Spy visibly pieced back together his composure. “I suppose we should go join the others. Perhaps we can reverse this quickly.” Sniper nodded and moved closer to tuck a stray grey-streaked lock back under the mask, straightening it across Spy’s brow from where it had shifted.

“Okay. ‘m right here with ya, spook.” He gave a comforting squeeze to the other man’s shoulder, who placed his own gloved hand over it for a slight moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> snoiper is bad wif words pass it on


End file.
